III

Page 176. A detailed sketch of a sunbathing garter snake with three stripes running along its body. "Found in the front garden of the Sharma residence. Considered to be friends of gardeners, these snakes eat common pests and do not harm humans. As snakes slough their old skin, they are often used as symbols of rebirth, transformation, immortality, and healing in literature."

Chapter Nine

Dangerous Elements

-o-

Melissa's sheets stuck to her skin when she flopped onto her bed. Her hands curled into fists. Her blood boiled and raced through her body. Her face burnt. Her pulse thumped hard against her temples and pounded in her ears. Heat coursed through her arms, pooling in her hands along with the urge to strike.

This was not summer's doing.

Jinx meowed weakly from the corner of the room. She let out a shaky breath and forced herself to lift her head to look at him. He was curled up beneath the window, yellow eyes trained on her. She had always thought he couldn't understand her, but at that moment she wasn't so sure.

"You're right," she said. Her voice sounded strange to her. Pitched low, dangerous. "I'm pissed."

The heat dulled just a little. Esme was right that there was a power in admitting to it. Somehow, saying that she was angry lessened the intensity of the feeling. It took the shame away from it and let her simply be a human being.

But right now being angry, rageful, wasn't helpful. She didn't know what to do with all of the emotion swirling in her chest and gathering in her fists. She didn't know where to challenge the uncomfortable influx of energy. She couldn't think straight. She needed to let go of it for now.

She forced her fingers to relax. Her hands moved to rest on her belly. She breathed deeply, air shuddering in her lungs. She stared at the blank white ceiling above her bed. Inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled-

That piece of shit.

Exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled-

How could he?

Exhaled.

She laid there and stared at the ceiling until her room was flooded with warm golden light, the sun peeking through the curtains to check on her.

-o-

She went downstairs, determined to avoid her father completely. She had no objective proof that it had been him but her gut told her it was. She just knew. She also knew that if she let him talk too long, let him convince her that her suspicion, her anger, was founded upon nothing, she would believe him.

What scared her the most about her father, aside from his ability to hurt the things and people she loved most, was that he was intelligent. There was something about rage, about losing control, about physical violence, that was understandable to Melissa's animalistic brain. She too felt the urge to drive her fists into walls. She too understood anger. It was all-consuming, so easy to get swept up in and so difficult to shake off.

But her father's anger was almost inhuman; foreign and impossible for her to understand. He was smart about it. His anger was controlled, his emotional reactions able to be postponed. In all matters, all of the time, he was perfectly measured. Cold. Methodical. When he was angry, he waited for the most devastating moment to show it. He never lost his temper in front of others. He never treated customers, or the neighbours, or anyone else in town the way he treated his daughters.

And he was manipulative. He liked words. That was why he opened Westbrook's, and it was also why he could convince Melissa of anything he wanted if he talked for long enough. With words, he had an uncanny ability to reframe reality. For this reason specifically, she was terrified of running into him in the house. She feared that he would convince her he was innocent, that he hadn't had a hand in what happened to Jinx, that he was just a humble widow, a bookshop owner with two motherless daughters, trying his best to be good.

Melissa entered the kitchen that morning and found him pushing that exact narrative. He stood at the stove, wearing an apron, spatula in hand. He was playing the good dad. She froze in the doorway.

"Oh, good morning." He looked at her and flashed a bright smile. "Would you like some breakfast?"

She was too shocked to speak. She couldn't believe he was truly attempting this. In a nearby pan, something bubbled and cracked loudly. He turned down the heat. The man who had hurt Jinx was gone. Her father had left and her dad was back, but Melissa was beginning to see that the two were one and the same.

"I'm making eggs," he said. "Sunny-side up. You always liked them when you were little."

Melissa stared at him in disbelief.

"It's a shame about Jinx. How's he holding up?"

"Fine," she forced herself to say. She didn't want to start a fight.

"Yes. He is." He poked at the eggs with the spatula. The room smelt like bacon. He turned off the heat and lifted the pan off the stove, placing it on another element. "Would you come here for a moment?"

She hesitated before shuffling over to stand a little closer, still a short distance away from him. As she drew nearer, she felt like she was suffocating.

Her father faced her and smiled. His hand flashed forwards. Melissa flinched, bracing for the sting of a slap. He grabbed her instead, fingers wrapping tightly around her wrist.

Melissa gasped and tried to pull back but her father was stronger. Always stronger. Bigger. She couldn't get away. She sunk her weight lower and pulled. Still, he didn't budge.

"Stop fighting."

He pulled her hand towards him.

No.

Not him, but the stove.

Her eyes widened. She looked from his face to the stovetop in horror. She flexed her fingers back and away. He pulled her hand closer, closer, closer to the hot element. Heat rolled over her skin. Pain spread from the heel of her palm to her fingertips. She squirmed, trying to free herself from his hold.

"Please," she begged. "Please!"

He stopped, looked at her. Smiling, he passed an empty plate into her seized hand. Confused, she took it. He piled on a few strips of crispy bacon and two eggs, sunny-side up.

Wide-eyed, she looked from the plate to his face.

"No need to beg for breakfast."

Melissa swallowed. Keeping her gaze on him, she moved to pull away.

His grip on her wrist tightened. "Uh-uh," he tutted. "What do we say?"

She whispered, "Thank you."

He let her go. She stumbled backwards on weak legs, away from him, to the kitchen table. She dropped into a chair, her body a deadweight. A moment later her father joined her and sat opposite her. Across the table, he grinned at her around mouthfuls of greasy bacon and runny eggs. Sunlight washed the wooden table with something that looked cosy, like a nice day, but only from the corner of her eye, only with her head turned away from it.

This was insane.

This was all absolutely insane.

This wasn't normal. Normal people weren't like this. Normal families weren't like this. She was sure of it despite never being part of one. There was something very, very wrong about the way everything was happening, the way breakfast had occurred, the way her father was looking at her. His eyes were wild with possibilities, and Melissa couldn't shrug off the feeling that something had changed between the two of them permanently.

"Go on," her father said, nodding at her plate. "Aren't you hungry?"

She picked up her fork. Her hand still felt the heat of the stove.

-o-

Before she left to interrogate Jasper about what happened behind Westbrook's, Melissa set Jinx up in Anna's room. Her sister watched from her desk as she carefully arranged the cat's bedding, making sure he had enough blankets and pillows and that none of them were too scratchy.

"He'll be fine," Anna said. "He's a cat."

"He's recovering," Melissa told her, checking that his water bowl was full before standing. "You have to watch him."

"I will," she said. "He's safe here. There aren't any toxic plants or-"

"No," she said, looking up at her sister. "Dad did it."

Anna's eyes widened. She didn't ask why she thought that, or why he would do it. It was obvious to both girls that he was willing and capable of doing anything to get back at either of his children.

"He can't stay here," Anna said. "I'll watch him today but you need to find someone who can take him."

"I don't want to give him away," she mumbled, petting the top of his head. She sounded like a child, and she hated it.

"It's what's best for him, Mel," she said gently. "Look, maybe you can get a friend to take care of him for a little while. Just until we get out. It's not fair to keep Jinx around someone who hurt him. What if it happens again?"

Her sister was right. Melissa, so overwhelmed with fear and rage, hadn't been able to think clearly about it. She was being selfish and stubborn, and it would only hurt Jinx in the end. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and promised to find someone to take him so he would be safe.

For today though, Melissa left Jinx and her sister upstairs behind a locked door. She ran out the front door to find Jasper standing outside of her house, waiting for her, as she had requested in her text. He barely glanced at her as she came out, his attention instead turned to the building itself. She grabbed his sleeve as she walked past him, not even stopping to greet him before trying to drag him away.

Not unlike the dumpster behind Westbrook's, Jasper was impossible to move. His gaze merely flicked from the house to Melissa's face. "Will your sister be alright if we leave?"

She cringed, seeing that there was no way of throwing him off the trail. Jasper had discovered her secret and he knew it. Melissa hated that he knew. More than that, Melissa hated that both of his parents were mandatory reporters. She could only hope he hadn't told them yet about his suspicions, and that she could convince him to keep his mouth shut.

"She's fine," she said.

"You're sure?"

She swallowed, looking him over. His feet were firmly planted on the sidewalk. There was no way he was going to leave without something more than a dismissive assurance. The longer he stood out here in view of the windows, the more likely it was that her father would see him.

Melissa shifted her weight, looking back at the house. The front windows were empty, the curtains undisturbed. Her father hadn't spotted them yet.

"He leaves her alone," she said quickly, glancing back at him, "when she streams."

Jasper looked at her. Something in his expression shifted. Again, for the second time in his company, she felt the phantom sensation of being hugged. It was as if all the houses and trees and grasses lining the street leaned towards her in comfort.

"But he doesn't leave you alone."

Melissa bit her cheek. Her eyes danced over the front windows of the house. "Can we go now?"

He looked her over for a moment, silent. When she said nothing more, neither confirming or denying his statement, he drew a deep breath and looked up at the clear blue sky. "The weather's nice," he said. "Would you like to go for a walk? There's a lake-"

"Sure. Sounds good." Anywhere, anything, that drew them far away from the house was perfect. She nodded her head eagerly and pulled again at Jasper's sleeve. This time he let her move him.

-o-

Melissa forgot herself at the sight of the lake deep in the woods behind Jasper's house. She forgot all about convincing Jasper not to snitch, or convincing him that whatever he thought was happening in her house absolutely wasn't happening. The view of the lake consumed her entirely, so beautiful that she forgot about everything. Warm yellow sunshine touched the water and scattered, shattering into hundreds of dancing jewels. Trees surrounded them, and a cluster of birds perched on a log that had fallen into the lake. Melissa stood barefoot at the bank, her toes sinking into the mud.

"Is it cold?" she asked.

"Not at all," Jasper said from a few metres away. The water cut across his bare chest, leaving little more than his shoulders, neck, and bobbing blond head above the surface.

She narrowed her eyes. "Is it clean?"

"Of course it's clean." Jasper flicked his wrist in her direction, splashing water. "Do you really think I'd let you swim in grey water?"

"Let me?" Melissa flipped her head over, swapping the view of Jasper's face with that of her knees. She tied her hair up in a bun on the top of her head.

"Encourage may be a better word."

She straightened back up, then waded into the water.

"Careful. It gets quite deep."

"I know how lakes work." She rolled her eyes and continued on. Soon her body was submerged and she was on her tiptoes, and then she was doggy-paddling with her chin dipping under the water.

"Yes," he said with a teasing smile, "but perhaps not how swimming works."

She splashed him. Water swept over his shoulder and wet the ends of his hair.

He laughed. "Are you trying to drown me, Melissa Westbrook?"

"No."

"Oh, so I'm still of use to you?" He moved towards her, a glint in his eyes.

A small smile took hold of her lips. "If you drown, who's going to help me with maths?"

He smirked, and moved closer still. The water trembled as he advanced closer, closer, closer-

"That's close enough." Melissa, treading water, threw a hand out at him. Her palm fell flat against his cold, pale chest. The nice weather had melted her brain. She'd nearly forgotten he was inexplicably strong, very annoying, and knew all of her secrets.

"My apologies." He backed up immediately. Her hand fell away from his chest.

Melissa stared at him with uncertainty. She was still treading water, her chin dipping under the lake's surface. Maybe if she stared at him long enough she could break him and he would slip up and tell her something he wasn't meant to, as he had done to her. Why was he so strong? How had he moved that dumpster all by himself?

"What's the matter?"

She swallowed. "What happened last night?"

"What do you mean?"

"The dumpster," she said. "You moved it."

"I did."

"How?"

"With my hands," he said.

She shook her head. "That's impossible. It's heavy. Really heavy."

"Melissa, I think you already know something's not right about it," he said. "I don't think you need me to tell you that. There's something a little too perfect about it all, isn't there?"

"What?"

"About what happened last night, and my family." He paused. "It's almost… not quite human."

Melissa scoffed and rolled her eyes. "I'm not playing whatever silly game this is with you, Jasper. Just tell me how you moved the bin."

"With my hands," he repeated.

She huffed. "You're unbelievable."

"I'll show you then."

He swam back to the bank. He walked out of the lake, shirtless, water beading along his broad back. He continued away from her, barefoot through the mud and grass, towards the treeline. Once there, he turned, looked at her. He raised one hand, pale skin harsh against the dark shaded trees, and shoved the trunk of an old pine.

Only that couldn't be. That wasn't possible because, in the next instant, the tree groaned lowly and snapped. A jagged line ran across the trunk. It fell and crashed onto the ground.

She gasped. "You…!"

"Do you understand now?" He walked back towards her, stopping at the edge of the lake.

She shook her head wildly. "You can't just cut down trees like that! This is a living ecosystem."

He tilted his head and stared at her for a moment. "Of all the reactions, I didn't expect that."

"As if I would ever support destroying the forest!"

"I didn't cut it. You saw what happened. You saw what I did."

She recalled the image of his hand pressing against the tree. There was no axe, no blade, no chainsaw. Just his hand. But that was impossible. That was simply not humanly possible.

"You know I didn't cut it." He stepped into the water.

Melissa whimpered, backing further into the lake away from him.

Jasper froze.

The two stared at each other for a long time.

"Melissa," he said, "do you understand?"

She shook her head. All she understood was that he was violating the natural world. He was deforesting the woods, and that was not something she could ever support.

"There are things about me that bother you, aren't there? Things that don't seem right," he said. "List them."

"Just tell me." As she spoke, her bottom lip rolled into the water.

"I can't," he said. Firmer, "List them."

Melissa hesitated, bobbing up and down in the water. She stared at him, standing in the shallows, shirtless and too pale.

"You're allergic to the sun," she said.

The corners of his mouth tipped up. "Something like that. What else?"

"You're cold all the time."

He nodded.

"You disappear out of school for weeks when the weather's especially nice," she said. "You're way too charming for a teenage boy. And you didn't eat the pie." She licked her lips, nervous, and tasted the lake on her bottom lip. "There's that weird art piece in your house with dozens of graduation caps. Your bed is always too well-made, like you iron it every morning. And- and-"

"And what?" he said. "What does it mean?"

She shook her head.

It was impossible. It had to be impossible.

"You're not human." It was insane, very silly, very stupid to even think let alone say, but there was no other explanation.

"No, I'm not," he said. "And so?"

"So-" She swallowed. "So you're-"

But she didn't know what he was. There were only people, only humans.

"Remember the book I gave you?"

"What?"

"The book," he said. "What do you think I am?"

And suddenly, it clicked. His too-pale skin, his too-cold hands. His bed would only be so perfect if he never slept in it. He wouldn't eat his own cooking only if he could not. And his family would only keep to their own if they were not like the rest of the town.

If they ate them.

"It's not-" She shook her head. "That's not- You can't be-"

"It's alright," he said. "Speak your mind. It's alright."

Breath rushed in and out of her lungs too fast, and the muscles of her arms ached as they cut through water.

"You're a vampire," she whispered, and the accusation skied over the surface of the lake. It hung there, knotted around his ankles, at the water's edge for a few seconds. An eternity, it seemed.

And then, slowly, he nodded.

Suddenly, the lake was cold. Suddenly, the sun moved in the sky to cower behind the clouds. Suddenly, his eyes were burnt honey.

She dove under the water, and swam to the other side of the lake, away from him. When the bottom of the lake began to rise, she broke the surface. Tendrils of orange hair had escaped her bun and stuck to her face.

"Melissa!"

She climbed out on the other side of the water, toes squelching in the mud. Wind swept over her damp body, her wet shorts. A chill ran up her spine. She wrung out the bottom of her shirt, and then untied her hair and wrung that out as well. Water splashed over her toes, pale white and wrinkled from the cool lake. The whole time, she kept her eyes on Jasper, who stood on the other side of the lake.

He was staring at her.

A vampire was staring at her.

She shuddered.

"At least take your shoes," he shouted. He was holding one of her sneakers above his head, waving it in the air.

Barefoot and horrified, she darted into the woods.

-o-

thank you for all of the follows, favourites, and reviews x

bumping the rating up to M for these last few chapters